


Fluffy Sweaters & Tea

by Riley_Sivertsen



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Agender Michael Shelley, Aroace Michael Shelley, Asexual Martin Blackwood, Best Friends, Fluff without Plot, Gen, Hair Braiding, Martin & Michael: Dream Team, Non-Romantic Intimacy, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Other, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Timeline What Timeline, Trans Martin Blackwood, fluffy sweaters, is there a plot what plot for just friends having fun?, long island iced tea, neither are mentioned but it's important you know, ok that will do, stealing each other's clothes, tea and cookies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:06:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27653843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riley_Sivertsen/pseuds/Riley_Sivertsen
Summary: Martin Blackwood and Michael Shelley are best friends, and they enjoy a Self Care Day.That’s it, that’s the fic.(Timelines be damned, these two deserve friendship)
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Michael Shelley
Comments: 11
Kudos: 24





	Fluffy Sweaters & Tea

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, I just got this idea in my head and now it won’t leave me alone. It’s possible it will even become a series, this was so much self-indulgent fun. I just think they would make literally the perfect best friends and I need to give them happiness and silliness.
> 
> And yes this is inspired by two of my best friends.

“You don’t think four pm is too early to switch from normal tea to the iced Long Island kind?” Michael asked.

“Not when we’re actively pretending our jobs don’t serve a mysterious evil fear god.” Martin removed the empty tea pot from the coffee table and replaced it with a gigantic glass pitcher that contained significantly more alcohol than tea.

“You make an excellent point.” Michael poured a generous amount into their now empty mug, and soon Martin was beside them on the couch again, his highland cow mug nearly full enough to spill over. One quick gulp and he’d fixed that problem.

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, enjoying the transition from warm and cosy to tipsy and comfy.

Today was Martin’s turn to choose the music, which meant today’s background noise was some indie folk group that Michael didn’t know, but it was nice. Martin was absently humming along. Michael readjusted so their back leaned against the side of their friend.

Martin was soft and squishy where Michael was bony, and he made a better pillow than the couch. Michael burrowed into the softness, issuing a huff and a laugh from Martin before his free arm welcomingly wormed around Michael’s shoulder.

“Michael, my darling, my dearest friend in all the world?”

“Yes, Martin, love?”

“Where is my cardigan?”

Michael made a sound of pure innocence. “Hmm?”

“You know, the one that hung over the back of that chair before I went to the kitchen to make us this delicious pitcher?”

“You need to be more specific,” Michael said solemnly. “I know a lot of chairs and a lot of cardigans.”

“The orange one with the embroidered daisies that you keep trying to steal from me whenever my back is turned?”

“Oh, that one!” Michael’s voice remained the essence of innocence. “You know, I think I saw it take a little stroll across the room and into my bag.”

“Michael!”

“I have a late shift tomorrow! You know how cold the archives get in the evening!”

“You’re telling me you have zero warm clothes of your own that could keep you from freezing to death?”

“Yours are better!” Michael whined. They could already feel the alcohol. “They’re warmer and softer because you can clean them without hurting them, and they smell of Best Friend, which mine simply don’t!”

Martin laughed and smacked a loud kiss to Michael’s head. “Fine! But I expect it back on that chair next time you come over.”

“Deal.”

“I’ve got plenty of other things to keep me warm, anyway,” Martin muttered.

Michael shot up from their comfy position and turned on Martin with wide eyes. “What was that tone? That was a tone of _guilt_! What are you hiding from me?!”

Martin’s cheeks turned bright red and he took a long sip of his drink. “It’s possible I tripped and fell into a second hand shop a few days ago and _accidentally_ ended up purchasing five new sweaters.”

“Martin Blackwood!” Michael shrieked. “You can _not_ afford that, and also I demand a fashion show right this minute! Show me the sweaters!”

Which is how they migrated from the couch to the bedroom, Michael on their stomach with mug in hand and legs flapping merrily up and down against the mattress while Martin posed in his cottage core knitwear.

“It is illegal how cute you look in that thing,” Michael commented about a fluffy blue jumper. “I don’t remember giving you permission to look that adorable.”

“I filled in the proper forms; it’s not my fault if you’re behind on your paperwork.”

Martin replaced the blue jumper with a bright red one that was too big even for him and that brought attention to the lovely red stripes in his hair.

“Oh!” Michael exclaimed. “You look like an elf stole Father Christmas's sweater!”

“I know, right!” Martin grinned enthusiastically. “I’ve never had anything this big.”

“If it’s that big on you, imagine what it would be like on me.”

“We’re not going to find out because you are _not_ stealing any of these!”

“Fine.” Michael took a long sip. “With my sense of direction, I would never find my way out of that thing, anyway.”

Martin chuckled and joined Michael on the bed, reaching from his own mug on the bedside table. “I know getting all these was a bad idea, but I just…felt like treating myself to something nice.”

Michael’s grin turned gentler, and they placed a hand on Martin’s knee. “Did you try to call your mum again this week?”

Martin stared into his mug, chewing on his bottom lip. “Yeah. She picked up, but it…wasn’t exactly a long chat.”

“Well, then I definitely think you deserved to treat yourself after having to put up with that–” They cut themselves off at a sharp glance from Martin. Outright talking about how horrid the woman was to Martin was off-limits for personal protection.

Michael accepted the look as a demand for a subject-change and clambered into a seated position. “Would you like to braid my hair?”

That earned a soft, grateful smile from Martin. “Yes, please.”

Michael scooted around until their back was to Martin, and soon they felt Martin’s fingers in their hair, running through it, separating it into sections and scratching occasionally at Michael’s scalp in that way he knew felt nice and soothing. Soon, Michael was practically a puddle under Martin’s hands. This was an activity that relaxed both of them, and even without the Long Island Iced Tea in their system, Michael would still be feeling pleasantly buzzed.

So buzzed from both the braiding and the alcohol, that they barely noticed the process that led to Martin having finished the braid and now curled up next to them on the bed with a box of cookies open beside him.

Well, Michael was too content to complain or question how they got there. They reached out for a cookie, and once it was appropriately demolished, they slipped their hand into Martin’s and snuggled closer up against him and his too-big sweater.

“I’m very glad you’re my friend,” they managed to mumble.

Martin laughed, the rumbling echoing in Michael’s ear. “I’m glad you’re my friend too, Michael. No matter how many cardigans you steal.”

There really was nothing quite as lovely as this friendship, where both of them could give and take and love without any expectations.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments joy to my heart and do wonders for my mental wellbeing, if you want to leave them ♥️
> 
> You can come shriek at me about multiple fandoms on tumblr @mx-riley and I hope you're being kind and taking care of yourself in these hard times. Did you take your meds today? 😘


End file.
